


Faint Music

by en passant (corinthian)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Suicide, some grotesque description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He’s coming home.” Someone said. “He has to.”</p><hr/><p>Yuusei never made it out of the Ark Cradle, but life goes on, somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faint Music

They were supposed to come home together — that had been the whole point, hadn’t it? But the six of them — there should have been seven, shouldn’t there have been? — watched the Ark Cradle pause in its descent. They watched it lurch and then fold in on itself, shadowed stone becoming light and then the castle rose back up into the sky.

The city had been saved, and the clouds drew back to reveal and clear night sky. The sun, even, peeked over the horizon to proclaim a new beginning. But the six of them — surely, if they waited a little longer, _surely_ — felt like the world had ended.

“He’s coming home.” Someone said. “He has to.”

The sun climbed into the sky, the citizens of Neo Domino returned to their homes and celebrated a victory over an enemy they couldn’t understand.

It’s Lua who started crying first — he tried not to, because he was going to try and be stronger now, stronger for the future and for his sister. Then Luka. Crow instinctively dropped to his knees near them and gathered them up — but there wasn’t any reassurance he could offer. It was better to try, to feel like he could do something for _someone_ at least.

Sherry was the first to go. She left silently, but carried her own promise in her heart — if she had learned anything, it was how to begin to move forward from loss. Aki followed, only minutes later, her back ramrod straight and taking small but steady steps. It was all too easy, to again, bury her sorrow deep within herself.

Crow ushered the twins away — they were just kids. They were just kids and this had been rough enough on them. He could hold it together long enough to make sure they were on the way to recovery. At least, that’s what he told himself.

After everyone else left, Jack descended the hill to the city. He walked to where the Ark Cradle would have fallen — where there was only some small pieces of debris, to show that it had ever really happened. Pieces of the tallest buildings that had been knocked loose by the castle’s lowest spires.

“Yuusei — Stop hiding! I know you’re here!” He yelled. “Don’t be such a fucking coward!”

There was, of course, no answer. The citizens of Neo Domino moved around Jack, they did their best to ignore him. It was, somehow, even worse that for everyone else it was as if nothing had ever happened. The city spitefully carried on, not even acknowledging the deep crater of loss that he felt.

_I won’t let you die._

Yuusei had made a liar out of him, again.

* * *

The twins left, two weeks after Yuusei didn’t return, to be with their parents. They said goodbye to Crow — because they didn’t want to bother Aki, because Jack had already entered the next tournament, because they didn’t have anyone else to turn to. Lua pressed both of their decks into Crow’s hands.

“Keep — keep these safe, I’ll — I-i-i-i-i — “ Lua didn’t all of the words he wanted out. Instead he buried his face in his sister’s shoulder and cried. Luka put her arm around him.

“We’ll be back for them, someday, but right now — “ her lower lip trembled, but Luka steeled herself and continued. “We want to concentrate on the time we have with the people who matter most to us. That’s why we’re going to live with our parents. We asked.”

And — no one said it, but it was an unspoken truth — they were scared.

Yuusei wasn’t supposed to die, he was supposed to come back. He had even said he would come back and — of all the things that had happened in their lives so far, that one was the biggest betrayal. In a way, Yuusei had been one of the constants in their lives, even though it had only been for a short time. Neither Lua or Luka had ever felt particularly betrayed by their parents — that was just how they were, always traveling, never having enough time, never thinking too much of the twins. But Yuusei had always thought of them, had always been there to help with whatever was asked of him.

It was the first time, _really_ , that they understood how death worked. The Dark Signer battles, the spirit realm, visions of the future — that all had been, in a way, fantastical and also it had all _been all right_ in the end. But a day after Yuusei died, and then a week, and they realized he was never coming back. Not dueling wouldn’t solve the problem, but every time either of the twins turned over a card in their decks it was a harsh and painful reminder of their time with Yuusei. Even their duel disks, modified to fit their arms perfectly, a reminder of someone who had cared — even when he hadn’t known them — and someone they’d never see again.

Crow got it, he understood it. So he accepted their decks and promised, “They’ll be here for you, when you come back.”

They didn’t hug for goodbyes — neither twin could let go of each other to really, and Crow was pretty sure if they hugged he’d start crying again. It was hard enough to say goodbye, but at least they had the promise of seeing each other again.

“Take care of each other.” He told them.

“We will.” Luka answered, for them both.

* * *

A year after Yuusei died, and Aki received her mortician’s license. Neither of her parents had approved, but neither would stop her either. Her father had tried — repeatedly — to turn her to a different path, asking if dealing with mourning people and dead bodies all day, every day, was what she wanted to do.

Her answer had simply been, “It’s something I can do for them.”

Her mother had tried too, saying that Aki wasn’t really a comforting kind of person, she had a short temper, she was a sensitive girl who sometimes overreacted. They wanted her to think about her future, about becoming more than _just_ a mortician.

“It’s not _just_ other people’s lives.” Aki told them.

The first night on the job had been tough — she felt like she was crumbling on the inside the entire time, but her boss congratulated her on an even countenance and steady hand. The advice she was given that night was, “The dead get easier to bear, with time.”

They don’t, not really.

Aki didn’t learn to put on a fake smile, but in a way, people seemed to react better to her because of it. It wasn’t a happy occasion, to arrange a funeral, to look over a dead body — to inspect her work, to make sure it was a true likeness of the deceased. As long as she wasn’t rude and spoke softly and slowly, people took to her.

She mostly worked alone. In a way, that was preferable. The evening and night shift was mostly customer free — and those customers that did come in, were families of violent crimes or horrific accidents or people who were ashamed. Her boss had told her, it was a difficult shift to work, but Aki found it was most rewarding. She was glad to be able to give some amount of peace to them.

But then she had her first jumper. A young girl, just out of her teen years, her family was on the border of rich — but Aki could tell that even in their best pressed clothes, there was a secondhand nature to them. 

“You need to make her beautiful again,” the father said, voice hollow and flat. Nothing on his face seemed to move, not even his lips. He didn’t blink and barely breathed. In contrast, his wife had such a brittle smile on, her hands were in constant motion, to her pockets, to twist the ring on her finger, to her husband’s arm. Her shoulders stayed straight and pulled back in good posture, but grief wracked through her body in numerous other ways.

Aki promised that she would, but an hour later, she discovered nothing left of the girl’s face. Only bits of bone and brain and dried blood remained. Aki traced a finger along the jut of the eye socket, careful of the sharp broken bone at either end. She eased the flesh up and off the skull, carefully worked to clean around what remained of the cheekbones and jaw. It was a surprise when the entire scalp and hair came off in her hand and for a treacherous moment she stood there and held it in one hand, fluid and sluggish blood dripped down her wrist and onto the floor.

For some reason it was that moment, holding that girl’s hair, that reminded Aki of loss. The ridiculousness of the moment didn’t escape her — late night, alone with only the dead to converse to and of course, none of them would ever talk back.

She felt her power swell and roll inside her and for a moment, Aki thought she wouldn’t be able to call it back and the whole funeral home would be ripped apart. Maybe she wanted to be the witch again, to push her feelings even deeper down inside her chest. Wearing a mask was comfortable, nothing could hurt her there and she could show the world how much pain she was in.

 _Yuusei_.

A long time ago, Divine had told her not to give her heart to anyone, because with it they’d be able to control her and hurt her. Aki had thought, that’s black irony, right there. But it was then, where she’d sunk to her knees and cried until the tears wouldn’t come and all she had left was anger, that she understood. It was when she beat her left hand into the tile so hard she broke two knuckles, bled onto the concrete and busted her hand so badly she wouldn’t be able to uncurl her fingers, that she truly understood.

(Her power though, sunk back down into her, calmed by the thought of Yuusei carrying her burdened darker feelings — and she felt all the more guilty for it.)

* * *

People were in the habit of congratulating Crow on his kids. As if he had done something spectacular to raise them. They congratulated him on how well they turned out, how good and well behaved they were, how dedicated Crow was to work whatever job he could to support them. They saw him at the WRGP, knew he could have been a real star on the track, thought it admirable that he gave up his dream just for his kids.

 _Just_ for his kids.

When he’s feeling charitable, Crow will laugh, shake his head and say, “You’ve got it backwards, these kids _are_ my dream.”

When he’s not feeling charitable, he’ll say, “Funny, how things turned out with Satellite and the City.”

Pretty admirable for the City to cut Satellite off like that, for years. Pretty admirable for them to never send help or aid and to consider them a ‘lost cause.’ Pretty admirable, the way the City loved using Yuusei as an example of the best of Satellite, when it was clear they were all happy he was dead. Crow knew they’d never come out and say it, of course, bad publicity. But it was the same way they talked about Crow and his kids and any markered citizen trying to make a living.

The ‘best’ of the poor. The redeemable Satellite scum. The City officials were glad to have a martyr instead of a savior and all too often it burned black and ugly in Crow.

He had honest work, good work for someone ‘like’ him. Delivery, stock, anything that kept him out of the public eye. He was good with money, he didn’t _need_ more — but something was unsettled in him. He guessed it was probably the way it all ended. What’s the point in saving the world if Yuusei died anyway? (He knew, there was much more than just that, but there was no way to call it a complete victory. Not when he had the twins decks, still, locked away safely. Not when he knew Aki had taken on working at a funeral home. Not when — )

So, Crow went back to stealing. It was easier than riding a bike. The City might be more powerful than Satellite, but its security systems were barely worth half the money put into them, if that.

It was petty and he knew it. It made him feel juvenile, sometimes, slipping in and out of rich warehouse windows or government buildings just to nab some cards, circuits, whatever seemed to tickle his fancy at the time. But it was just as thrilling before, just as fun and — he was able to recapture something of who he was.

Crow had known all along, that Yuusei would have remained in Satellite — the City, Domino — until the day he died. He’d always assumed that the would meet up every now and then. _Going home_ was always going to be returning to Yuusei.

Then they’d had nothing to bury, had to let the city erect a fake grave, had to listen to all the fanfare about what a wonderful sacrifice, a true eternal hero. The only real proof — the kind of proof that had _mattered_ to Yuusei — was in the people he left behind. That’s why Crow never left the City. 

* * *

It was less than a week after Yuusei died, that Jack entered his next tournament. He’d announced it, as publically as possible, that there was the title of King to defend, and he wasn’t going to waste any time. Crow had been pissed about it, they hadn’t quite gotten into a fist fight, but it had been close.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Wrong with me? _Nothing._ ”

“How can you think about your stupid piece of shit title!” Crow raged. 

“ _Who’s title do you think I’m defending._ ” Jack hadn’t yelled, that was the strangest thing about it. Instead he’d simply said it, with more conviction than he’d ever said anything in his life. Absolute belief in what he was doing. It stopped Crow in his tracks — everything a little _too_ familiar. And, of course, everyone knew who’s title.

The most recent king, after all, had been Yuusei.

Angela writes the most read article in a decade, the headline is `THE KING’S CHAMPION` and the photo of Jack they used is an old one, from one of his earlier victories in the City. They have to use an old one, because in all his recent pictures he looks shadowed and grim. A rival paper wrote an article a day later, headlined: `THE KNIGHT’S BURDEN`, it wasn’t as popular, but it might have been more honest.

Jack had to rebuild his deck — all of the Signer dragons had been lost with Yuusei. He built it up again without an ace monster. It was a risky play style, relying on early swarming or pure determination, but his record held. The ‘king’ stayed undefeated.

Just once, a reporter asked Jack if he had been inspired by Fudou Yuusei’s style — after all, Jack’s previous style had been nothing but overwhelming power.

“Inspired? Not at all.”

“Then, could you explain why you’re defending his title? We know that you were teammates, but this seems more extreme than just a team bond.”

“Because Yuusei’s coming back.” Jack said it matter-a-factly. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll hunt him down and beat the tar out of him.”

He didn’t give interviews, after that. His managers wouldn’t let him — and Jack didn’t really care one way or the other. The truth was, two years after the Ark Cradle had almost destroyed the City, and no one wanted to really speak Yuusei’s name. No one wanted to talk about him and certainly no one wanted to believe he might _come back_. Martyrs were better left dead. 

Eventually, they stopped finding Jack’s victories charming. He was undefeated, _undefeatable_ , and despite multiple accusations of cheating, no one could ever prove it. Some started calling him ‘the Mad King’ for the cold way he dealt with the media, for his managers’ reluctance to put him in the spotlight — for the way that he refused to take up the title again, and yet continued to defend it.

But dueling was dueling and at the end of the day, no one could dethrone the king.

During the off-season, Jack traveled. It was only Kiryuu who confronted him about why — when their paths crossed, just south of Satisfaction Town. It was Kiryuu who cut Jack off, who swung his D-Wheel right around in front of him and kicked up sand and gravel against the open side of the Wheel of Fortune.

“Don’t you dare step foot in my town, with an attitude like that.” He said, by way of greeting.

“Fine,” and Jack turned, to go in a different direction. Kiryuu cut him off again. “What’s your problem!?”

“You won’t find him. No matter where you go, you won’t find him.”

Jack didn’t say anything.

“Do you know why? Because he’s _dead_.” Kiryuu continued, relentlessly. “Yuusei died five years ago, Jack.”

As soon as the words left Kiryuu’s mouth, Jack was up and out of his seat. He hadn’t even bothered to properly park his D-Wheel, it fell over, engine still idling. He hit Kiryuu, fist to the face and Kiryuu just let him. He even let Jack get a second hit in for free, even though it went to the same cheek as before.

That was enough freebies, though. Kiryuu threw the kickstand down on his own D-Wheel and drove his elbow up and into Jack’s chin. Jack had always been too straight forward about fights. Even after his teeth rattled — and he’d bit his tongue — he just aimed for the same cheek, another punch. Kiryuu stepped out of the way of that, grabbed Jack’s extended arm and rolled him over his hip, then straight to the ground.

“He’s _dead_.”

“Shut the hell up!” Jack didn’t stay down. He tackled Kiryuu, tried to pin him down and hit him again. But Kiryuu rolled when they hit the ground, got out from under Jack and then kicked him in the side. Then again, for good measure, and a third time, until Jack had curled up on the ground, wheezing.

“And who are you doing this for then? For Yuusei? Or because you can’t bear the fact that _we all let him down_.” Kiryuu’s voice rose with each word, getting louder and louder. “Grow up, Jack. _Grow up_! We all lost him. _I_ lost Yuusei too!” His voice broke, because even five years later the person who had been the center of Kiryuu’s world three times over — when they were stupid teenagers, when he had sought revenge, when he thought he was dead — wasn’t ever coming home again.

They were all carrying too many ghosts. Jack didn’t get up, that time. He stayed on the ground, even though his right hand clenched and trembled with the force of his anger.

“I promised,” Jack said.

It deflated Kiryuu. He dropped to the ground next to Jack in the dust.

“You broke your promise,” he said. “You know, he wouldn’t even be mad.”

Jack barked a laugh, short, bitter and broken. “No, he’d forgive me.”

* * *

_On the fifth anniversary of the saving of Neo Domino City, we should all take time to reflect on those we care for most. While, as a reporter, it’s not in my nature to be purely sentimental, it seems to go against such an important occasion to only speak of it in fact._

_We all know the facts, anyway. On this day, five years ago, a great threat came to the city. Our entire way of life — and the future we all had a right to, was threatened. For the second time, a comrade and dear friend defended us from harm. The Shooting Star of Satellite, the then-current King of Duelists, Fudou Yuusei._

_Before he saved the city, most people only knew of him as an upstart from Satellite who had entered the Fortune Cup. Some of us were luckier to know him as much more than that, but someone who had already given his all to save the city once. In the secret and darkened alleys that stained Satellite and Neo Domino alike with ancient gods and shadowed figures. It’s less written about, that time, because it wasn’t televised and because the battles were far more personal._

_While I have my own experience of that time, it doesn’t differ from many other people’s. A dark battle, losing loved ones and finally, finding hope in the end. This hope extended to the bridging of the two halves of our city and brought us together on the path to healing. It sounds pretty dramatic, but there’s no other way to put it._

_Everyone knows that Yuusei battled Z-One and kept the city from being crushed. But what you might not know about Yuusei is that he built his first D-Wheel out of scraps, as a teenager living in Satellite. You might not know that he had a sweet tooth, but almost never indulged in it. He only drank his coffee with sugar and cream. I didn’t know that he used to be scared of thunderstorms, that he preferred cats over dogs and one of the first Christmas gifts he ever received was a wrench._

_I was honored to get to know him, but whenever you spoke with him, you got the feeling that he felt honored to get to know you. Yuusei remembered all of his friend’s birthdays — but sometimes slept through them, because he was such a workaholic. He never attended school, but he did go to school to fix things — when asked, and for a small fee. His favorite colors were red and black, but if asked he would probably say “all of them.”_

_Above all, Yuusei cared. He cared about the City and about Satellite and about them both after they merged. He cared about everyone he met and everyone he hadn’t met. So, before you think of him as ‘the guy who saved the City’, please remember him as Yuusei — who kept a stash of chocolate buttons in his toolbox, who enjoyed rollerskating and had a great sense of humor, even if it was a little dry._

_These are the kind of things that define a person, more than an event. An event is a point in history, but the person that we all loved and admired — that’s who he was._

_And so, on the eve of this anniversary, I ask that you spend time with your loved ones. Remember the good times, maybe even the bad times, and look forwards toward a bright future._

_Thank you, here’s to another great year.  
Carly Nagisa._

**Author's Note:**

> It’s not the story though, not the friend  
> leaning toward you, saying “And then I realized—,”  
> which is the part of stories one never quite believes.  
> I had the idea that the world’s so full of pain  
> it must sometimes make a kind of singing.  
> And that the sequence helps, as much as order helps—  
> First an ego, and then pain, and then the singing.  
> — Robert Hass, Faint Music


End file.
